


There Will Be Blood

by incrediblytired



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Caring Dean, Fluff, Men of Letters Bunker, Menstruation, Mentioned Castiel - Freeform, Supernatural - Freeform, claire in the bunker, claire novak - Freeform, mentions of abuse, sick fic sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-06-08 02:16:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6834958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incrediblytired/pseuds/incrediblytired
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Claire gets her period while living in the bunker.<br/>Rated T for language.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There Will Be Blood

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd. Word vomit. I take fic requests!

It was a quiet morning in the bunker. A quiet, early morning, Claire noted. The clock next to her read 4:57, earlier than anyone should be expected to wake. She brought her hands to her eyes and adjusted the comforter covering her.  
A real, clean, comforter that belonged to her. About a month ago, the boys had welcomed her into the bunker after she had broken down and prayed to Cas. She had been in a bad situation, and the man she had been rooming with requested that she begin selling herself. She panicked. She left his home, prayed to Cas, and he took her to the bunker.  
The boys welcomed her with more open arms than anticipated, immediately giving her a space of her own. Whether there was any influence from Castiel was debatable. Regardless, she had a room, a bed, and (thanks to borrowed stolen credit cards) some newer clothes. She enjoyed her life, and her little, as hard as it was to admit, family.  
With a feeling of contentment, she shifted onto her right side, but stopped suddenly.  
Her pants were wet and sticking to her. Claire's stomach dropped. It had been awhile. She knew this was coming... She just thought she had more time to prepare. She had been meaning to sneak supplies into the cart on a shopping trip, but it just hadn't happened.  
Besides, Claire assumed when this happened Castiel, who she had grown to trust and respect, would be home. Then she would go to him and he would be completely understanding, unphased by the disgusting nature of it all. Of course, this was happening the night after Castiel had left on super important angel business for the week. She was fucked.  
She sat up in bed and shifted to her knees to examine the bed. Fuck. There was a bloody spot on her bed, more like a small puddle, the size of her fist.  
Her heart started racing as she got of the bed, shedding her pants and underwear (do NOT call them panties) as fast as she could. This CANNOT happen. They would kill her. They would kill her.  
She would never forget the first time she bled on somethings of Nick's, the man she lived with after Randy. Of course it was accidental, but that didn't seem to matter to him. All he recognized was that Claire cost him money. He beat her violently. Apparently the couch was more important than she was.  
She could feel the sting of large hands on her cheek, and the absence of breath when he struck her stomach.  
She couldn't breathe. She looked around and then remembered she had taken off her pants. Why had she done that? In a complete panic she snatched them off the floor and threw them in her closet. She slammed the door and whipped around to her dresser, searching for sweatpants. She found a pair and yanked them up her thighs and made her way back to the bed to address the more obvious stain. Her hands had just touched the down filled fabric when there was a knock at her door.  
"Claire, you okay?" Said the gruff voice on the other side of the door. From the sound of it, it was a woken up Dean. Fuck.  
She walked to the door and opened it.  
Looking up to him and in a tone she hoped hid the fear in her voice she said  
"Fine. Why?"  
Dean gave her a look of disbelief and eyed her up and down. "I heard something..." He pushed past her in the doorway and began to scan the bedroom.  
"I fell out of bed." Claire practically yelled. It sounded like a lie, even to her.  
"Yeah okay..." He scanned the room again.  
"You sure you're okay kid?" He asked.  
"I'm fine,"she said, but her emotions surfacing from her time with Nick betrayed her. A tear slid down her face.  
He gave her a hard look, then pointed at the bed and said "Sit," before exiting the room.  
Claire adjusted the comforter to cover more of the stain before situating herself on top of the covers. Tears were still falling against her will and she could now feel the blood sliding against her body. Panic rushed through her body more violently than before as she willed the blood not to meld with the material of her sweatpants. In her haste, she had forgotten any form of undergarment. She had no idea how she was going to get out of this. She had a feeling that Dean would be back soon, and he would not let this rest.  
Just as a fresh bout of frustrated tears fell, Dean entered with Sam. Dean plopped himself on the other side of her on the bed while Sam stood hesitantly just inside of the doorway. Fuck. How do you lie to two of them?  
"Start talking, sweetheart," Dean half barked.  
Claire just shook her head.  
"Tell us what's going on!" Dean yelled.  
Claire winced and whispered "It's nothing..." before trying to regain her composure. Nick hated it when she cried.  
Sam took a step forward and sat next to Dean. "Look, Claire," he began. But it was too late. The weight of the two men was too much, and the bed dipped. The sudden change caused Claire and the comforter to slide out of place.  
All three of the people in the room had their eyes locked on the stain. There was a brief silence.  
Dean was the one to break the silence. "Is that... Is that what you are so upset about?"  
Claire only cried harder, curling into herself as much as she could, refusing to make eye contact or respond.  
There was some shuffling, and when Claire peeked out from behind her hands covering her face, she saw the boys had left the room. Of course they had left the room. Why the hell would they stay? They were disgusted by her. Claire began to form her escape plan. She had to get out of the bunker before the brothers could hurt her.  
Footsteps came close to her, and she curled further into her self and braced for whatever blow was to come. Instead of a kick or hair pulling, a hand wrapped around her upper arm, pulling her from the ground.  
She allowed herself to be pulled up and came face to face with Dean. Once standing he released her and reached for the towels he must have placed on her bed when he came in. He handed them to her and with no ceremony said, "Go shower."  
Claire did. She shuffled off to the bathroom, willing her blood back into her body. She shut the door and immediately stripped. She turned on the shower to allow it to warm before attempting to clean up. Her efforts were for the most part in vain, there was dried blood streaked all over her lower half. She gave up with the toilet paper, flushed it, and stepped into the steaming shower. She allowed the water to fall on her for a moment, still planning her escape, which would not involve a hot shower for a long time.  
Claire had been so focused on scrubbing and basking that she did not notice the door that must have opened. Last night's pajamas had disappeared from their spot on the floor. On the counter was a folded pajama set, appearing to be sweats and one of Sam's shirts, along with variety packages of name brand pads, tampons, and panty liners. On top of it all was a note that read "didn't know what you preferred" in a scrawl she did not recognize. These things puzzled her, but regardless, she situated herself and dressed.  
She exited the bathroom as quietly as possible and headed back to her bedroom. She gasped a little when she entered, spying Dean on the edge of the (freshly made, with new sheets) bed.  
Dean looked up at her, moved the shopping bag next to him, and patted the space next to him. She moved slowly and sat herself at what she thought to be a relatively safe distance from Dean. An emotion flashed across his face, something like hurt. He reached into the bag and pulled out a heating pad (which he tossed at her), a bottle of midol, and an assortment of teas and candy.  
"While you were showering I sent Sammy out to get some stuff."  
"Thanks," she replied quietly.  
"Claire..." he began, " Listen kid, I know that you don't want to have this conversation and I get that, but... You gotta trust us, okay? We aren't gonna hurt you. I don't know what that asshole Nick did to you, but me and Sam, we ain't like that. We'll take care of you, but you can't hide from us. I know you probably wish Cas was here instead and I get that, but you can get help from us to. We won't give you hell for something you need or can't help, okay?"  
Claire wiped away a few tears, different than the earlier ones.  
"Thanks," she choked out.  
"You okay?" he asked.  
"Yes," she said, "for real this time."

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd. Word vomit. I take fic requests!  
> insta @incredibly.tired


End file.
